


The Man Who Can't be Moved

by TotalFanGirl221B



Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Magical Realism, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2016-01-03
Packaged: 2018-04-11 08:18:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4428110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotalFanGirl221B/pseuds/TotalFanGirl221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For this prompt: http://cabinpres-fic.dreamwidth.org/6968.html?thread=13822776#cmt13822776</p><p>Man-With-A-Van Martin is so lonely he becomes invisible. Nobody notices and he is never seen again.</p><p>Until Douglas. Who would really bloody like to know how the homeless-looking silent guy keeps getting onto the plane without anyone else noticing.</p><p>(I realise it says 'quiet', but I kinda started away from that a tid bit...)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Cabin Pressure or any of the characters, unfortunately!

**So… here’s a bit of a fill – not yet complete! I know this is _extremely_ short, but there will be more, and the next parts will be longer, I promise! Hope you enjoy it!  Thanks :)**

* * *

 Douglas is, at first, confused by the sight. Today MJN are flying an orchestra to Gdansk, and as Douglas watched them all climb aboard the plane he noticed a strange looking man lagging behind. Douglas stared at him, trying to figure out exactly what he was doing there; he clearly wasn’t a part of the orchestra, what dressed in some scruffy white shirt and black skinny jeans with holes and dirt all over them, yet he was boarding the plane. “Arthur,” Douglas turned to the steward, obviously desperate to find out who the man was. “Who’s that boarding the plane? Is he part of the orchestra?” Arthur squinted to where Douglas pointed, and then looked back smiling.

“Of course he is, Douglas! Didn’t you see the instrument he was carrying?” Douglas sighed; realising asking Arthur was a stupid thing to do.

“No, Arthur,” he placed his fingertips at the bridge of his nose. “That man behind him, you know, the one who looks… homeless.” Douglas realised it was a tad harsh, but taking one look at the man it was all he could really conclude; scrawny, dirty, and he had a bright bushy ginger beard which, if he wasn’t homeless, _needed_ to be removed as it really didn’t do the man any favours.

                         Arthur once again squinted, but this time looked to Douglas puzzled. “What are you talking about? There’s nobody behind him.” Again, Douglas sighed. Trust Arthur not to see the man with the _bright ginger hair_ who would stand out in a crowd.

“Right _there,_ Arthur.” He insisted, yet Arthur still couldn’t see who he was talking about.

Arthur shrugged. “Never mind, Douglas, he’s probably a part of it. Anyway, mum wants you.” Douglas immediately forgot about the strange man and rolled his eyes.

“What gale force this time?”

“Er, what does it go up to again? Is it, is it ten?”

“Twelve.”

“I’d say … eight.”

“Oh dear.” Before Arthur could agree, Carolyn came striding in angrily, taking one look at her first officer and sighing. “Ah, Carolyn, what a pleasure it is to-”

“Stop that, Douglas. Where’s Nigel?” she interrupted him immediately. Douglas shot Arthur a glance and Arthur took this as a cue to leave while he still could. Douglas looked back to his boss and shrugged.

“He’s on his way now, probably.”

“ _Good,_ I want to be rid of this orchestra as soon as possible.” She almost shouted, Douglas quirked an eyebrow and she spoke again. “Listen to this! Their conductor’s put under ‘Any Special Requirements’: “The tubist must on no account be given alcohol; the conductor must at all times be given alcohol. He will also require the toilet to himself for an hour before landing. And, most importantly, the bassoonist, Madame Szyszko-Bohusz, will be working under the presumption that you are trying to kill her unless proved otherwise, so avoid approaching her with blunt instruments, sharp knives or hot liquids.” Terrific!” before she could say anymore, Nigel had arrived finally. “Ah, good, you’re here.” Nigel looked over to Douglas who had raised eight fingers, and Nigel understood instantly.

* * *

“I’m just going to nip to the loo,” Douglas said to his captain, who nodded as he left the flight deck. Douglas wandered through the cabin, smiling when eyes looked up to him. That’s when he saw the strange man again, and he remembered that morning. He stared over to him, luckily unnoticed, and listened in as this man was talking non-stop to the passenger next to him who was clearly bored by his constant chatter. “This is amazing!” the man beamed. The woman sat beside him didn’t even blink, let alone acknowledge that he was talking to her. Perhaps he wasn’t. “Look at the view up here, it’s amazing!” Douglas smiled a little, thinking of Arthur and his overuse of the word “brilliant” for _everything._ The first officer then realised he was just standing in the middle of the cabin watching this man, and so he continued his way to the toilet slowly, making sure to not take his ears from the conversation. “The plane is so beautiful – a Lockheed McDonnel 3-12. I used to collect models- well, well… they weren’t very _big,_ but my dad and me used to make them together.” Douglas noticed how the man’s voice quietened as he spoke about his father, but he continued to listen. “He didn’t really- really understand why I loved _planes_ so much, but- but just look!” he exclaimed again, almost jumping from his seat as he looked out of the window. Douglas was surprised when the woman didn’t even move an inch as the man beside her fiddled around. In fact, she barely even seemed to notice his existence.

                Douglas carried on listening for a few minutes longer, noticing how the woman still ignored the man cub cheerfully staring out of the window beside her, but was soon pulled from his reverie as he was reminded why he had left the flight deck in the first place. When he came out he looked over to the man again who was still chattering to the woman beside him, yet he had quietened down now. Douglas thought it was probably because he had realised how bored the woman was and how little she cared, and so he didn’t stay any longer to listen to the rest of this one sided conversation and he made his way back to the flight deck.


	2. Chapter 2

Douglas froze. It couldn’t be. It simply _couldn’t._ How had he gotten on this flight? Had he been there the whole time? _How?_ He seemed to find himself asking as he stared again at the same homeless man he had seen just the other day. When he had gone out to find the lemon, he hadn’t expected to hear _that_ voice. That voice telling the passenger beside it all about the plane, and how he absolutely _loved_ flying, _exactly_ as he had been the other day. Douglas instantly looked through the cabin, searching for the voice, and there he was. Just sat in his seat, staring out the window. Douglas’ first thought had been whether this man _ever_ got bored on flying, especially since he had just been on this same plane just a couple of days ago. That led to his second thought, which was _how the hell had he gotten on the plane with a completely different group of people?_ Douglas had accepted that he may have been a part of the orchestra after all when they got off at Gdansk, though now he wasn’t so sure. He wasn’t sure at all.

                Forgetting about the travelling lemon, he quickly went into the galley. “Arthur, did you see him this time?” he spoke urgently, and Arthur quickly looked at him.

“Who?”

“That man! That same man who was on the last flight!” he waved his hands in the air, pointing out to the cabin. When Arthur, to Douglas’ frustration, gave him a perplexed look as response, Douglas grabbed his arm and almost dragged him out to the cabin. “Look, there!” he pointed to the ginger man babbling on to the man beside him, being ignored yet again.

“The man on his phone?” Arthur was once again confused.

“Arthur!” Douglas sighed. “I am losing the will to live. Look. Over. There.” He said, exasperated as he pointed at the man once more. Arthur’s eyes followed the arm, but still, he could only see the business man looking disinterested.

“Douglas, are you alright?”

“Wha- Arthur, are you telling me you cannot see that man – that _ginger homeless man with the bushiest of beards?”_ after a few moments of Arthur looking carefully back, he turned to Douglas and nodded timidly. The first officer turned to the man in the chair, then back to the steward in disbelief. This wasn’t just Arthur being a clot. Even Arthur would spot him eventually. Was Douglas going mad? He shook that thought instantly from his head and then looked back to the seat where the man was, again, almost jumping from his seat.

“Are you alright?” he heard Arthur asking quietly beside him.

“Yes, yes, fine.” He shook his head, trying to just forget about it all. “It was just a joke.”

“Oh- oh right.” Arthur chuckled, and then paused. “I don’t really get it, Douglas.” Douglas rubbed his face and shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter, Arthur.”

* * *

 

It was his turn again to go and search for the lemon, and he was _not_ enjoying it. Not because it was hard, no, he had found the lemon ages ago. It was because every time he came out he would hear that man talking about flying and he would look up and _see_ him sat there, but apparently nobody else could. Well, Arthur couldn’t. But, Douglas was beginning to think it wasn’t just Arthur; the business man sat beside him had completely ignored the young man beside him, which would have been considerably hard with him talking so loudly. Then he took out his laptop and seemed more interested in the work he was doing on that than the man beside him, and he didn’t even ask the man to be quiet whilst trying to do his work – so something must be going on. But _what?_ He wondered, getting angrier by the second.

                Arthur came out with the desert trolley, and Douglas spotted the lemon, yet again. Nigel just wasn’t the best at this game, Douglas thought as he rolled his eyes. He was about to grab it when he noticed the stranger leaning over the business man to point at the cheesecake. “Get the cheesecake – the strudel is awful!” he advised the man beside him. Douglas wondered what for, and it was clear that when the strange man pulled back he was also wondering the same thing as he sighed and pushed himself further into the corner of the chair.

* * *

 

More flights went by and Douglas noticed the same man on most of them. There were some when he didn’t know whether he was on, because it was only him flying and so he couldn’t go out and check. He had considered asking Arthur if he was there, but obviously that wasn’t going to work for him, and so he tried to let it go. He couldn’t, though. The more he tried to forget, the more he _thought_ about it.

                As he continued to watch the man’s behaviour, he realised that he had believed right; other people couldn’t see him. He hadn’t a clue why, and he hadn’t a clue why only _he_ could. Sometimes, though, he didn’t mind. Sometimes he would leave the flight deck for the toilet, or to play the travelling lemon, or to tell a passenger off for smoking, and he would hear this strangely cheerful man carry on and on and on talking about planes to every new passenger that sat next to him. Douglas would sometimes hear the same thing, and occasionally the man would say something new. And then, then there were the times – very _rare –_ times when the man would just stop. He’d look out of the window and just smile sadly to himself, believing nobody could see him. He would just silence himself and sigh. Then, he would turn back to the person sat beside him and the sad smile would be sat on his face as he looked pleadingly to them, as if that would be enough for them to be able to _hear_ him. Then Douglas would just hear him whisper. “What’s the point?” then he’d look down at the floor, fiddling with his fingers. “You can’t hear me anyway.” And, for some reason, Douglas _hated_ those moments. Even though he didn’t know who this man was, what the _hell_ he was doing here, or where he had come from, he couldn’t help but feel for the man.

* * *

 

A flight to Boston; that was when Douglas found out more about this mystery passenger. He was stood by the door of the toilet when he heard something that sounded different. This wasn’t one of the stranger’s usual stories. This wasn’t about the plane or the destination – it was about _him._

                The stranger had just taken his seat belt off when he turned to woman beside him and smiled. Douglas knew what was coming: some plane nonsense. He smirked as he made his way towards the toilet, and then he stopped in his tracks. “Hello, I’m Martin Crieff.” He heard suddenly. _Finally._ He finally knew something about this man. He stopped by the door and waited to listen for more, and more he got. “I always wanted to fly!” the man sat beaming as he spoke to the passenger, one of many who didn’t listen. “Not-not as a passenger, of course, as a pilot,” then he sighs and looks to his fingers, “but I’ve failed my CPL enough times already and I didn’t have enough money to retake it, so… I- I got left with my dad’s van which just- just… it’s not great. Not how I had- had my life planned. But, I had to get money and so- so I became a man-with-a-van for ICARUS Removals and it wasn’t the best business, it-it… it was the worst! The van broke down all the time, so I-I was cheap- I had to be! I- I had no time to make friends between removals, and so… so now…” he gestures with his hands to himself and looks down to the floor. “Now I’m like this,” he sighs and stares out of the window. He laughed humourlessly. “Here I am- telling you my whole life story…” then his voice turns into a whisper. “You can’t hear me”. Douglas stares at him, preventing himself from walking over to talk to this _Martin_ in fear of himself seeming like a crazy person. That was still up for debate, as this may all _still_ be in his head, he realised. Douglas shook his head, knowing he couldn’t go over. He _really_ couldn’t. And so he opened the door and pretended not to see how Martin’s eyes filled with tears as he gazed out of the window.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, so I decided to add another chapter today because the other one was so short! Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far! :)


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a long flight and all Douglas wanted to do was get in his lexus and get home already. However, the world didn’t want him to do that, clearly, as he noticed Martin Crieff still sat on the plane, staring out of the window intently even though they were now back on the ground. Douglas sighed and wondered whether he should go over. Of course not, that would be stupid, he reasoned. _Obviously_ he couldn’t, because he had to get home. He _wanted_ to go home. He took a step out, but then groaned. He also wanted to get to the bottom of _this._ This _man._ This mystery. How? He couldn’t exactly confront him, ask him why he was the only person who could see him, and then expect this Martin to explain his whole life story. No, Douglas was better than that.

                Stepping out from the plane, he called Carolyn over. She rolled her eyes as she went over, frustrated. “What is it?”

“There’s someone still on the plane.”

“What?” she shouted, pushing past her first officer and onto the plane. Douglas followed anxiously, knowing that she probably wouldn’t see the man, but then fearing that she _might._ Why was he worrying about it? If she _could_ see him, that meant he wasn’t going crazy, and that was good. But, then, if she _did_ see him, he would get kicked off. Douglas would never see him again, and for some reason, he didn’t want that. Maybe it was because of his curiosity, or perhaps because he had become strangely fond of the man and his constant talk of planes, and the clear light in his eyes as he boarded _every single flight,_ somehow still containing the same excitement as he had on the very first flight Douglas had seen him. “Douglas, is this some sort of joke?” he was suddenly pulled from his thoughts by a furious looking Carolyn glaring at him after searching the seats. The first officer stayed silent, and Carolyn continued. “Because I _will_ punch you.”

“What do you mean?”

“There is _nobody_ here,” she spoke, exasperated.

“He’s right there,” Douglas indicated to the seat Martin was sat in, turning to see the man properly for the first time. Martin was crouching behind the seat, for some strange reason (he obviously knew nobody would see him), but his head was now poking up from the seat with the same confused expression Douglas was now showing. There was also clear shock, maybe even _fear._ Douglas stared at him, ignoring the now concerned look from Carolyn he was having shot his way. He just took a moment to take in this strange man, this strange man who had managed to get on all the flights – including cargo – that the crew had been on recently. He wanted to mouth something to him, he wanted to go and talk to him, but then he _would_ seem crazy. So, he just stayed put, trying to figure out what his next move should be.

                “This isn’t funny, Douglas.” Carolyn looked over to where Douglas’ eyes were fixed, and then back. “What is it with my pilots _trying_ to be funny?” she threw her hands up as she exited the plane, leaving Douglas to stand bewildered for a moment or two. He had finally, _properly_ seen him. After hearing Carolyn huff, he turned to the door and watched as she strolled away, clearly agitated by her idiot pilot. On turning back to Martin, he noticed he had now gone. _Where?_ He squinted, searching for him. Maybe he had gone for him now, too. _No. He_ can’t _have._ He went further down the aisle, and suddenly stopped short. Martin had decided to crouch down a little more, and so Douglas could now see only the top of his scruffy hair which was only just sticking out, which made Douglas smirk.

                The first officer pulled out a pen and paper, scribbling down something in his incredibly neat handwriting and then placed the note on the seat just beside where Martin had hidden himself. He didn’t know whether Martin would find it, as it was only small, and so he dropped his pen on top, making sure it was loud enough for the stranger to hear. Then, Douglas left, after staring at the younger man.

* * *

 

Martin looked up straightaway when he was sure that both the CEO and first officer had left the plane. His first thought was _how?_ And that was when he turned and saw the paper lying on the chair on the other side to his seat, with a pen thrown just about on top of it. Should he read it? Was it even _for_ him? _Of course it is,_ he argued, _it wasn’t there_ before _and it is now that someone has_ spotted you. He froze, flashing back to the moment. _That_ moment. The first officer had _seen him._ He had pointed him out to the CEO – he had stared him right in the eye and _seen_ him. And now – now there was a note. _But why?_ He hesitantly reached his hand out, and then pulled back. _He shouldn’t._ It probably wasn’t even for him; this was probably all some misunderstanding. _Nobody_ could see him, why would this _Douglas_ be any different? They didn’t even _know_ each other. _Maybe there’s something in the note._ He glanced back at it, itching to read it. Again, his hand reached out further and further, and suddenly he had it. He actually had a note from somebody who had seen him. He could _communicate_ with _somebody._ He blinked at the folded note, his breathing increasing as he slowly unfolded it, fear and excitement bubbling up inside of him. _What if it_ was _a joke? What if he had raised his hopes for nothing?_ He sighed, but then smiled again. _What if it_ isn’t – _what if somebody has_ really _seen me?_ He couldn’t stand waiting any longer – he quickly opened the note and stared. His eyes scanned the words but could barely process them:

_Mr Crieff – I believe – meet me in the flight deck tomorrow, it’s the captain’s day off. I would like to ask you some questions._

It was addressed to _him “_ Mr Crieff”. This Douglas even knew his name – _how?_ Martin didn’t know how to react. He was scared for a moment – what if he is being kicked off of the plane? What if he’s being told never to fly again? He shook his head and refused to believe it… but, if it was going to happen to _someone._ No. He couldn’t think like that.

                He stroked the paper, reading the words over and over. Realising he was no longer _alone. Somebody…_ somebody _finally_ saw him. Finally _noticed_ him. Grinning, he looked up to the door and almost cried with relief. He was no longer forgotten, he _existed_ again.

“He… he noticed me.” He spoke quietly, stroking the paper as he lay back in his seat. “He noticed me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another *quite* short chapter, but they will get longer as it goes on, I promise! Thanks for all the comments and kudos so far! You guys are the best :) Hope you enjoy!


	4. Chapter 4

Today was the day Martin’s life was going to change. He was sure of it. His life hadn’t been the best, and it had gone from bad to worse; he had failed his CPL four times and his parents were getting tired of lending him money, no matter how many times he assured them that he was _meant_ to be a pilot. His father especially didn’t understand his obsession with his flying. Sure, he had encouraged it when Martin had been young whilst he ran around the house pretending to fly when he was only five. He had even built models with him, and then, when he was older, he had funded his first take at his CPL. He did so begrudgingly, however, and reminded Martin that he could always “change your mind and get a _better_ job; one more suited to you” which had always hurt Martin, but he had simply shrugged it off and reassured his father he would do well as a pilot; he was born to be one, after all.

                Of course, he didn’t. Try after try he had fallen, and his father wasn’t going to continue funding his failure. It had gone from one try, to two, to three, and he had _just_ managed to gather money for a fourth attempt. This time he could show his father, show him that he _could_ do it. The fourth try came and went, and Martin sighed as he knew there was simply _no_ point in trying again. Not that he could anyway; since then, his father had passed away, meaning Martin would never be able to show him that he could make it as a pilot one day, and he had left Martin his van; that godforsaken van that broke down too many times. He had given Martin’s brother and sister five grand each, and Martin the van. So he couldn’t retake his CPL.

                All he had was the van, and so he got to work; he created ICARUS Removals. It wasn’t a great business, but it kept him fed. Well, if eating pasta all of the time counted. Sometimes he would be able to treat himself to a baked potato if the job had gone well and he had received a tip, or it was a big job. That wasn’t so often though, and Martin didn’t get his hopes up.

                Between van jobs, Martin couldn’t really have a social life. If he wasn’t working then he was exhausted; he had to have so many jobs to afford the bare minimum. Who would want to be friends with him anyway? He was a man-with-a-van simply because he couldn’t afford to retake his CPL _one more time,_ and he wasn’t the calmest of people. He couldn’t relax; but when you have to depend on someone having to get something moved just so you can get some more food, then it’s kind of hard to not be on edge. If he didn’t get a call, he might not get food, so how could he relax? Especially when he was so tired after doing a few jobs a day, sometimes.

                So yes, Martin was incredibly lonely. Lonely enough that, one day, nobody noticed him. He had no moving jobs arranged, he had nothing to do, nothing to eat. He was just driving around in need for something to do. That’s when the petrol ran out, and so he schlepped to the nearest petrol station and began to fill up. Nobody noticed him. Nobody saw him there.

                At first, he was confused. No van jobs in weeks, nobody had spoken to him or called or anything, absolute silence. He called his family, but when they answered the phone, they wouldn’t hear him. He assumed at first it was probably just his phone; it was an ancient model, after all. He went outside then, and that’s when he realised. _Nobody could see him._ It had been that nobody had noticed him before, but now he could literally not be seen. By _anybody._

                This carried on for days, weeks even. Then, he smiled. Nobody could see him. _Nobody._ Think of what he could do. He grinned and jumped from his bed, running from his spot in the alley – he hadn’t been able to keep his apartment; being invisible meant he couldn’t really give his money to the landlord because he didn’t have any in the first place, and he couldn’t really hand floating money to the man.

                That’s when he got on the plane. He hopped on, following some orchestra and beamed. Nobody knew he was there; he could just fly the skies and enjoy it and be happy in the place he felt most comfortable. As he took his seat, he smiled and realised he was content.

                That was until a few flights later, because although he got to fly, he was still lonely. And loneliness couldn’t be cured just by flying the friendly skies with a small charter company. Every time he spoke to the passenger next to him, he would start off smiling and telling them all about the plane. As the trip went on, however, he gave up and quietened. There was no point; they couldn’t see or hear him. If they could, would they still listen, he wondered. Probably not. He would realise as he then just stared out of the window, trying to adjust to this new way of life.

                But that night. Somebody, _somebody_ had spotted him. They had _noticed_ him, and his life was going to change. As he sat in the seat, trying to keep the excitement down as he wanted to sleep, questions floated around his head nonstop. The one that stuck out the most was _why? Why the first officer?_ But then he remembered; he didn’t _care._ It was _somebody_ and that’s all that mattered. He was going to go to the flight deck tomorrow and talk to somebody and have them _listen –_ have them _respond_ to him. How long had he waited for this moment? How long had he been desperate just to have somebody _there,_ acknowledging his existence? He sighed contentedly, and then closed his eyes. Ready for the day ahead.

* * *

 

It had arrived. He was sat fidgeting, just waiting for the seatbelt sign to go off so he could finally be unleashed and run to the flight deck as if it were the most important thing in his life – because it was. He glared angrily at the sign which was teasing him as he sat anxiously. The longer the sign stayed on, the more time he had waiting the more worry went through him which made him wonder if this was all _real._ Then his mind would remind him of the fact that he was _invisible,_ and so this was _not_ the most ridiculous thing to have happened.

                It went off and he jumped up and walked speedily through the galley where the steward was burning something in the microwave. Then, he reached the flight deck door and he froze, his hand already halfway there, ready to knock. His heart stopped. _This was it. The day Martin Crieff’s luck_ changed. He smiled, and then hesitantly raised his hand higher and then he knocked. Douglas only just managed to hear the quiet noise coming from the door, and he knew who it was. The first officer didn’t hesitate to let the man in and let him sit down beside him.

                Martin didn’t know what to say. He had been allowed in, he had sat down, and now they were both just _sat there._ He coughed awkwardly, and stared at the pilot who finally turned to face him. “Hello,” he spoke softly. Martin wanted to reply. He wanted to say hello back, or _something_ back. _Anything._ His mouth, though, had other ideas as he simply choked a little. The other man didn’t seem to mind, however, and he simply carried on. “It’s alright; if you’ve lost your voice, I understand after all that talking you did about planes on the flight yesterday, the flight before that, before that etcetera.” He smirked.

“You- you heard that, then?” he finally spoke lamely, fidgeting with his fingers again and looking down at them as Douglas turned back to the sky.

Douglas hesitated before speaking, ready to say something like “who wouldn’t” as he realised who he was talking to. Teasing wouldn’t do just yet, especially if he wanted answers. “Yes, every time I left the flight deck, actually.” He eventually decided on and saw Martin blush.

“Oh- er… yes…” Martin sputtered, not really knowing what else to say. Douglas didn’t leave the man to struggle for too long, fortunately.

“Anyway, that’s not why you’re here,” he spoke seriously now, and they both turned to face each other. Martin seemed worried, not really sure if he knew what Douglas was going to say next. For all he knew, it could be that he needed to stop getting on the flights.

“Y-yes, why- why did you want to see m-me?”

“Like I said in the note; I have questions. I think you need to explain your _situation.”_ Martin blushed once more, somehow turning an even darker shade of pink.

“Well- well you must know some of it already, er… er, what do you need to know?”

                Douglas filled Martin in on what he knew, which was everything he had heard on the flight to Boston. Martin filled in the rest of the gaps, explaining how he just sort of… _disappeared_ to the rest of the world. “No- nobody noticed me,” he spoke solemnly. “ _Notices_ me.”

“ _I_ noticed you,” Douglas smiled to him sincerely after listening to his story intently. He noticed Martin’s mouth quirk into a matching smile as he nodded.

“Yes… yes, you did.” He grinned. Neither of them decided to question why or how right now, because both were content with how things were, no matter how it had all occurred.

                The pair spoke for the rest of the flight, pausing when either the steward or Carolyn came in. Douglas, for some reason, felt comfortable talking to Martin. Well, when somebody has told you everything about their own life, how they have now become invisible, then it is only fair that the other should allow said person to have a glimpse in their life.

                “You know, for a minute I actually thought I was going mad,” Douglas admitted as the flight drew on.

“To be honest, you _did_ seem it; wondering up and down the cabin a lot of the time. I always wondered what you were doing,” the two laughed.

“I was actually playing the _Travelling Lemon_ most of the time, I just happened to hear your conversation.” Martin gave a questioning look. “One pilot hides the lemon and the other searches for it.”

“Oh,” Martin nodded slowly. “Anyway, you _could_ be mad; you are still the only one who sees me.” Douglas quirked an eyebrow and Martin immediately stuttered as he made himself clear. “Y-you’re not, though. No, no. I- I’m 100% real. Definitely _real.”_ He replied, making sure Douglas got that.

“I know.” Douglas reassured.

* * *

 

After the flight, Martin was _exhausted._ He had had so much fun _talking_ to somebody who would _actually_ listen. He was ecstatic and he was looking forward to more… he paused. Would there be more, or was that it? Was that all Douglas Richardson wanted – an explanation? Now that he had that, why would he want to bother with this man anymore? He paled, filling with anxiety as Douglas began to speak. Was he ready to be rejected _already?_ He sighed and stayed quiet, waiting. “Listen, the next flight in a couple of days… it’s just a cargo flight and we only need one pilot, so I’ll be on my own again,” Douglas begins. “So, if you wanted to pop in and-” Martin’s face lights up as he hears the words and he suddenly interrupts, happiness filling him all over again.

“You- you want me to fly with you again? You _actually_ want me to stay?” he smiled nervously. Douglas chuckled at the man’s excitement. He would probably be the same if the only person who could see him didn’t mind his company.

“Well, if you’re not busy,” he joked, patting the younger man’s shoulder as Martin rolled his eyes. “I guess I don’t _completely_ mind your company. Plus, you’re not _great_ at the word games, but better than Arthur.” He reasoned. Martin smiled up at him, thanking him sincerely.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here you are, a - finally - longish chapter! I hope there are no mistakes, but my keyboard is really annoying and all the keys are stiff so if I've missed a letter or made a typo, don't hesitate to let me know! And thank you all to the lovely comments and kudos - I'm sorry I don't reply to the comments individually, but it's just because all I can say is thank you so much for reading my story and giving me your opinion on it! You guys are the best! And I can't keep commenting that because you'd get sick of it, so I'll just keep saying it at the end of every chapter! So thanks to those commenting and everything, I hope you enjoy this chapter, and if you don't, don't hesitate to tell me why (constructive criticism, I mean - not just rude comments)! Thanks :)


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here it is, finally! I am so, so incredibly sorry for the wait. I've been busy with lots of stuff bla bla bla, and plus, I just couldn't get into the groove of this story for a while. I just had only plain ideas, and I thought that I could come up with something better, rather than rushing it with the plain ideas. So I hope this is worth it, because you guys have been incredibly patient and I thank you for that! 
> 
> The time has gone forwards a bit, let's say a few months or so. Hope you enjoy!  
> Also, it's a flight that only requires one pilot :)

“I told you, Martin; nobody likes strudel.” Martin groaned as he lost yet another bet with Douglas during this flight. The pair had become quite close having spent so much time together, sometimes it was in the flight deck where they would joke and they would play word games and things like that, and other times it was when Martin was a passenger and Douglas would listen as he went to the toilets to him go on and on about planes. No longer had Douglas been bored by what the man was saying, but for some reason, he was strangely reassured when he heard that voice every time he heard it. Because he had grown quite fond of the man, though he would not admit that to Martin himself, and he rather hated the fact that only _he_ could see him, because what if one day that wasn’t enough? What if, one day, Martin realised he just couldn’t keep living like this. And so he stopped. Douglas shook that idea as quickly from his head as it had come to him, but it still managed to linger in the back of his mind.

                “Right, I’m no longer betting anymore.” Martin finally announced after having lost most of the good cheese from the tray, which was quite bad, considering he didn’t get to eat much outside of this really. He would find what he could, but he couldn’t really go and buy anything, could he?

“Yes, I think that is probably wise; you have the most unfavourable luck known to man.” Douglas commented, grinning slightly at the thought of all the cheese he was now not going to have to share. Of course, he didn’t _mind_ sharing. Not with Martin. He figured Martin didn’t eat much when they weren’t flying, going by how skinny the man was, and so it didn’t bother him if the boy needed to eat.

                There was a short silence as Douglas realised his previous comment may have not been a particularly good one to make; Martin was _invisible,_ of course he had bad luck. He sighed internally as he got ready to apologise. “Don’t you get lonely sometimes?” he shut up as soon as he spoke, wondering why the hell those words had been spoken rather than an apology. What had he been thinking? He and Martin were friends, of course (at least, he would like to think that they are now), but Martin shouldn’t have to answer a question like that; it was too personal. Though, as Douglas was about to explain himself and apologise for _that_ inappropriate comment, Martin cleared his throat and went bright red as he began to speak.

“I- I guess, sometimes.” He sighed, twiddling with his fingers awkwardly, refusing to look Douglas in the eye. “But sometimes I sort of, er, like the solitude. It helps me think, I guess… J-just about th-things, and stuff…” he shook his head, realising he wasn’t that brilliant at conveying his true feelings. He waited for Douglas to comment perhaps, make some joke so that he didn’t have to continue. He _wanted_ to, but it was _hard,_ and he knew Douglas would probably get bored of him trying to explain. But the older man was sat listening intently beside him, waiting for him to speak up again, but not pushing him for a clear answer. “But I- I was lonely b-before _this,”_ he looked up at Douglas, finally looking at him and talking _to_ him. “Other- otherwise… If I hadn’t b-been lonely al-already, this wouldn’t have happened… would it?” Douglas nodded although he knew it was rhetorical. He felt the need, though, to clarify to Martin that he _did_ understand. “A-and anyway, that doesn’t matter now, r- really, because… I have you,” he smiled, albeit it wasn’t the biggest smile to ever grace his face, but it was there nonetheless, and Douglas smiled in return. “You’re my friend.” Martin nodded, and Douglas nodded back in reassurance.

                It was quite odd this, to be honest. They had been on many, _many_ flights together now, but not really ever had this conversation, or any conversation as deep as this one. Douglas had never really asked _much_ about Martin’s previous life because he had had it explained to him, and he had never thought to ask about Martin’s life now. Because it was just how it was, he just assumed Martin was coping with it all. Now that it had been revealed that Douglas played a huge part in keeping Martin going, Douglas didn’t know how to feel. He was happy he did so, but also concerned as to what would happen if he wasn’t around anymore. What would happen if Douglas stopped _noticing_ him? No, no, he refused to think about that; that would _never_ happen. For some strange reason, Martin meant a lot to Douglas too, now. He had somehow managed to get into Douglas’ skin, and Douglas didn’t seem to mind it. He rather enjoyed the other man’s presence if he were honest, and he sometimes hated that they were restricted to only seeing each other on the plane, which confused him quite a bit. Quite a _lot_ actually. He was beginning to question many of the feelings he had for Martin.  

                Before Douglas could think any more about his feelings for this man, Arthur came bounding in with coffee, managing not to spill it this time. “Well, thank you, Arthur.”

“You’re welcome, Douglas! Sorry, er, about before…”

“Oh, that’s quite alright. No harm done, ey?” Douglas smirked, looking over to Martin who had now a frown on his face; perhaps no harm had been done to _Douglas,_ but the coffee Arthur had spilt before had scalded Martin, not too severely, but it caused him to yelp out in shock. Only Douglas had been able to hear him, however, and so Arthur was a little confused when Douglas had looked so worried when turning to the seat Arthur had accidentally spilt the beverage. Luckily, it hadn’t all spilt on Martin, otherwise explaining to Arthur how it had disappeared would have been extremely difficult.

                Once Arthur left, Douglas turned to Martin with a smile on his face; not a grin, or a smirk, a sympathetic smile. Martin’s frown had fallen as they were left to remember what Martin had just confessed. “You do have me, Martin.” Douglas reassured him, patting him on the shoulder. “Now, your turn.” He said, looking back to the sky waiting for Martin to ask what he meant. He grinned at the image of Martin’s nose scrunching up in confusion, and was a little annoyed at himself for not watching it.

“What? “My turn”? What are you talking about?”

“I asked you a very personal question, and now, you can ask me one.” Martin still looked confused, more so now at the fact that Douglas was being generous. “I know, I wouldn’t normally allow it, but it only seems fair. Plus, I think I know a lot more about you than you about me.”

“Oh- er, yes, I guess so, hm…” he pondered for a moment, wondering what he could ask that would allow him to find out something Douglas would _never_ tell somebody. “Do- do you ever get, er, lonely? Do you have a wife,” he paused. “Or- or partner?” he added quickly, before Douglas responded. Then, he noticed, Douglas’ smile seemed to drop a little. Oh no, he’d gotten this wrong, hadn’t he? He shouldn’t have asked something like _that,_ should he? Douglas had asked him the same thing, but it was _different –_ Martin was invisible, so it was a sensible question. “Douglas, it doesn’t ma-”

“It’s fine, Martin, I asked you the same thing.” Douglas interrupted, holding a hand up to calm the man down, obviously sensing his worry. “I have had three wives, two divorces and the next on the way, and a daughter who I see often, but not often enough.” He paused for quite a while. Martin began thinking that was it; that was his answer, and he didn’t mind if it was. Douglas shouldn’t have to feel the need to tell Martin all of this, it wasn’t Martin’s business, after all. “So, I suppose I’m a little lonely at times, yes.” he finally commented, leaving Martin a little speechless. “But, that’s alright; things have changed. I think of you, Martin, as one of my closest friends; visible or not.” And with that, Martin couldn’t speak. Just hearing Douglas _say_ that was – as Arthur would say – brilliant. It really was. Martin cared a lot about Douglas, why shouldn’t he? He was the only person who could see him, and Martin was beginning to thank God for it; Douglas made him _happy._ Quite blissfully happy, and now every time he flew on this plane, he wasn’t only grateful that he got to fly on it all the time, but he got to fly with _Douglas._ He got to speak to somebody who acknowledged his existence, who didn’t feel forced to talk to him, who actually thought of him as _one of his closest friends._ And Martin felt his eyes burning.

“Th-thank you. Thank you, Douglas. Really. Means a lot.” He smiled, nodding as he only just prevented himself from crying right there and then. This was ridiculous, he told himself, _crying_ because somebody _wanted_ to be his friend. But as he looked up at Douglas, he could see understanding in the older man’s eyes, and he realised it wasn’t _so_ ridiculous to feel wanted. To feel _noticed_ by somebody.

                “What’s h-her name?” Martin asked out of the blue as they flew back home. Douglas was too busy thinking to process what the younger man had said at first. Thinking about this situation. Trying to decide what to do next…

“Sorry?”

“Your daughter, what’s she called?”

“Emily,” Douglas stated proudly, smiling to Martin as he did so. “She’s sixteen now, just starting college. Too old to hang out with her father,” he added, regretting it a moment later. Martin didn’t need _his_ problems, the man had enough of his own.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Martin commented, though, reassuring the first officer. “Most children that age just kind of do their own thing, but they always come back eventually.” This elicited an “hm” from Douglas, so Martin changed that bit of the topic. “What does she want to do?”

“She is hoping to go into medicine,” Douglas nodded. “Very dedicated to the subject, actually.”

“Ah, well that’s good.”

“Perhaps not as dedicated as _some,”_ Douglas smirked, managing to provoke a moan from Martin.

“I just memorised the manuals to get to grips with everything! It’s a normal thing to do!”

“Alright, alright, keep your socks on.” Douglas rolled his eyes as Martin chuckled. “Anyway, she does like that sort of stuff. I actually thought about medicine once; that’s what I studied at university.”

“Really?” Martin’s eyes widened. “You wanted to be a doctor?”

“Well, I wanted to be a medical student. They seemed to have the most fun. My parents were both doctors, and they did push me in that direction. They were awfully disappointed when I eventually dropped out. Still are. But it was my choice, and I think I prefer this lifestyle to that of a doctor.” Douglas watched understanding wash over Martin’s face; he knew all about parents disapproving. “So, did you really never want to be anything other than a pilot?” Douglas said, trying to get off judgemental parents.

“Nope, I’ve wanted to be a pilot since I was six.” Martin beamed up at him, which made Douglas feel quite strange inside… that smile, for some reason, was a comfort to Douglas. He just looked so happy, _genuinely_ happy, and Douglas was all too glad to be the one to put that smile there.

“What about before that?”

“An aeroplane.” At this, Douglas chuckled which first prompted Martin to glare. That glare only lasted a few seconds though, before Martin too began to laugh. Douglas’ smiles, his laughs were contagious, and Martin was just glad he was there to witness them.

* * *

Douglas did the final checks and turned to the man sat beside him, fiddling with his fingers. Douglas always hated this bit, saying goodbye. Obviously they would see each other the next time MJN had a flight, which was fairly frequently. That didn’t make it any easier, though. Because Douglas knew Martin wouldn’t be leaving the plane. This was where he slept. This was where he had to stay simply having nowhere else to go. He knew he would be there all alone. And it made him feel strange. It made him feel hurt. So tonight, tonight was going to be different.

                He turned to Martin, slapping his hands on his knees as the huge smile on his face didn’t falter. “Martin,” he began. Martin quickly looked up, immediately his expression turned to confusion at seeing the smile on Douglas’ face; surely if what Douglas had been saying earlier that day was true, then he should at least be a little sad to be saying goodbye to Martin. He normally was. “Would you like to have dinner at mine?” Martin didn’t respond. “Just because I know you have nowhere else to go, and I would also appreciate your company.” Slowly, Martin smiled and Douglas loved it, watching Martin’s eyes crease in the smile as he nodded.

“Yes, yes, that would be good… nice.” he stood up, smile only growing, as he followed Douglas from the aircraft and eventually to his Lexus.  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! All the comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! I will be posting updates of all of my fics on my Tumblr: the-ways-of-a-clot :) Thanks again!


	6. Chapter 6

“Sit down, make yourself comfortable,” Douglas spoke as he threw his keys into the small bowl by the door and then wandered through to the living room. Martin followed sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers as he stared around the room they had just entered. This was a beautiful house, he thought, scanning each item and book. _Better than the attic._ He smiled in amazement, realising this was kind of the opposite to what he had been expecting; obviously he had anticipated Douglas would have quite a reasonably large home, but all the ornaments and things, the tidiness of the place surprised Martin a little. And then, his eyes fell onto the piano in the corner, widening slightly.

“You play?” He beamed, wandering over to it and subconsciously stroking it. Douglas barely glanced up, trying to get something from his flight bag.

“Oh yes, do you?” _Used to,_ Martin thought, and sighed internally. He hadn’t played much, only when he was a child, and even then he didn’t play very well, but he enjoyed it. His extended family would visit sometimes and his parents would ask him to play, and he would, and they would all pay attention to him for once. People would actually watch _him,_ even if only for a little while. But, then he grew up. Flying had been his main ambition, and ditching a hobby to try and better his chances of becoming an airline pilot didn’t bother him much at the time. Of course, now it seems like a wasted opportunity, and he could barely remember how to play.

“I- I used to,” he started, realising he had paused for quite some time, though the first officer hadn’t said anything. “But I was solely focused on flying really, I guess.” He smiled wistfully, kind of regretting his decision now; if he was never going to make it as a pilot, he _could_ have continued. No, no. He _loved_ flying. Loved it. It _was_ worth it, of course it was… But still.

“Well, I don’t mind if you want to reunite with the instrument.” Douglas smiled softly, and then turned for the kitchen. “I’ll go and put dinner on,” he nodded, watching as Martin decided he would sit at the piano. “Do you like chicken?” Martin nodded, not really paying much attention as he looked down at the keys.

* * *

“So, any other interesting hobbies you had before deciding flying was it for you?” Douglas spoke up in the middle of dinner after a silence, not an awkward one, though. They had gotten used to each other now, and so were comfortable even if neither was saying a word. Martin gulped a huge part of chicken down, immediately regretting doing so on seeing the older man smirk, causing him to blush yet again.

“I- er, no, not really. The piano was just something I enjoyed, I guess. I had to do something at school and, there weren’t any f-flying groups or anything,” this elicited a snort from Douglas, and Martin scowled at him playfully. “So, yeah, I chose piano lessons and that was that.” Douglas nodded along, listening intently. Martin wasn’t sure when he had so much attention solely on him, and he felt himself flush even more, which caused Douglas to smile. “How about you?”

“How about me _what?”_ the pair had looked back down at their food now, picking at the very last pieces as they listened to one another.

“Your other hobbies?”

“Hm,” Douglas thought for a moment. “Cooking, as you can see,”

“Oh yes, this is delicious by the way. I didn’t know you could cook so well,”

“Martin, in the time you have known me, do you remember when there was that thing you didn’t know whether or not I could do, and then it turned out that I couldn’t?”

“Er… no.”

“No, nor do I.” Martin glared at him, but again it was playful.

                And then silence fell again as they finished up the last pieces of dinner, each glancing up at the other occasionally and then dropping their gaze as soon as the other person looked up. “I can wash up, if you want?” Douglas quirked an eyebrow as Martin grabbed the older man’s plate. “It’s the least I can do; you didn’t have to invite me round, and it really was quite a nice meal.” He smiled helpfully, about to start when Douglas shook his head and grabbed the plates carefully from Martin’s hands.

“It’s fine, you don’t need to.”

“I’d like to,” Martin interrupted, watching Douglas.

“No, I mean that you _really_ don’t need to; I have a dishwasher.” Douglas smirked as he opened the appliance and placed their dishes inside. Martin rolled his eyes, going slightly pink as the first officer stood back up to face him. And then they both paused for a moment, neither wanting to speak. Douglas began to just stare at Martin, his green-blue eyes, his cupid bow lips, and the abundance of freckles. Martin seemed too to be examining the other’s face, with the same look of anticipation. The same look of want. _He can’t_ Douglas thought, realising how crazy that sounded. Martin was so much younger, of course he didn’t _want_ Douglas in such a way. Did Douglas really want _Martin_ in such a way? Apparently yes, his brain supplied as he licked his lips. Slowly, he leaned forward. He knew this was completely stupid, Martin didn’t, _wouldn’t_ want – wait. Martin wasn’t moving away. He could obviously see Douglas inching towards him, yet he wasn’t moving. Perhaps…

                Then Martin stepped back slightly, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as the red rushed from his collar to his forehead. Douglas fell back on his heels, cursing himself inside. “I- I should be, er, going now then, probably.” The younger man spoke nervously. Douglas shook his head, sighing internally. Had he ruined this now? Had Martin been frightened? What _had_ he done? Perhaps, though, Martin hadn’t noticed. Perhaps.

“Are you sure? Where will you go?” he asked, somehow managing to sound like his usual sophisticated self, trying to forget what had just happened.

“Erm…” Martin thought for a moment, and his face went blank. “That’s a point,” he shook his head, placing a hand over his eyes. “I usually, er, sleep on the plane… Which will be-”

“Locked.” Douglas finished for him, realising the predicament the young man had gotten himself into. And with that predicament in place, the near… whatever it was Douglas had wanted, was out of Martin’s mind. At least, that is what Douglas had hoped.

“Yes.” Martin sighed.

“Stay here,” Douglas suggested, a little too quickly. Martin looked at him quizzically, not saying anything before Douglas spoke again. “Just for tonight of course, I have a spare bedroom upstairs, it’s usually for my daughter. I’m sure she won’t mind if you use it just this once.” The first officer smiled, getting his confidence back eventually.

“Oh no, Douglas, I _can’t._ You’ve just cooked me that dinner and I don’t want to inconvenience you too much-”

“You’re not an _inconvenience,_ Martin.” He spoke seriously. “You have nowhere else to stay; I can’t kick you out onto the streets.”

“I don’t know, I won’t be able to pay you back,”

“You don’t _need_ to,” Douglas sighed, shaking his head as if talking to a child. “You’re doing me enough of a favour by being here, to be honest, I don’t like the silence in this house.” And that was the truth. When Douglas had started admitting all of his troubles to Martin he didn’t know, but he knew it couldn’t really hurt, and it felt nice to finally _tell_ somebody. Especially somebody who understood what it meant to be lonely.

                Reluctantly, Martin finally agreed and they both found themselves once again in the living room. “Will- will you…” Martin began, but soon silenced himself as he plonked himself down onto the _very_ comfy sofa. Douglas quirked an eyebrow, waiting for Martin to speak again, not really giving him the option not to. “Would you want to play something? On the- they piano, I mean?” Douglas glanced over at the instrument, smiling with the corner of his mouth as he turned back to Martin.

“Anything in particular?”

Martin shook his head and waited as Douglas seated himself, and watched as the older man gracefully moved his fingers over the keys. This man played as if it were second nature to him, and although Martin envied him a little, realising he was never _that_ good on the piano, he sat listening and watching in awe as classical music was played throughout the evening.

                “That- that was absolutely _amazing,_ Douglas.” He clapped quietly as Douglas sat beside him, not too close after his near mistake – no, not mistake, he made a mental note – but not so far.

“Yes, well, as I have already pointed out this evening: I am very good at _everything.”_ Martin rolled his eyes, but smiled.

“Are you sure? There must be something you _aren’t_ good at.”

Douglas gave it some serious thought, causing Martin to scoff after such a long pause, and so he then spoke up. “There are things I haven’t tried yet. I suppose it’s possible I’m not very good at some of those – theoretically.”

“Ah,” Martin smirked as they returned once more to a comfortable silence.  

* * *

Finally the credits rolled up at the end of an absolutely _terrible_ film they had decided to put on. It was Douglas’ idea to put a film on, and it was his fault for not moving Emily’s films from people’s sight. So, when Martin had just picked the first film he saw, Douglas was the one to blame really for having allowed it to be played.

                Douglas turned his head to the now sleeping Martin who was resting on his shoulder – _shoulder? When had they moved so close to each other?_ – and smiled softly. This was nice, this was comfortable. He realised, as he had done when he had first recognised that he had more-than-friend feelings towards Martin, that this was wrong. Completely _wrong._ There was no way Martin would feel the same way back, first of all. And secondly, it felt a bit like taking advantage of him. If Martin ever did decide that he wanted Douglas in the same way Douglas wanted him, he would only be doing so because Douglas was the only one who noticed him, and thus his only choice. That was hardly fair.

                He debated leaving Martin there for the night; grabbing a blanket for him and laying him on the sofa. Though, a part of him knew that that was cruel, and the younger man would only wake up with horrible back pain. No, Douglas would either have to wake him, or…

Douglas decided to lift him up as though carrying a child – and it almost felt like it, what, with Martin barely eating – all the way up to the guestroom. It wasn’t such a hardship, really, even if he was getting older. The only real problems he faced with this solution was avoiding hitting Martin’s head against the wall, the doors, and the banister. However, he made it and was able to gently place the still sleeping soundly Martin into the single bed, allowing himself to stare for a few seconds at his sleeping form before retreating from the bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys so much for your kind comments and kudos! And thanks again for being so patient; I'm hoping to at least update weekly, but if I fail to do so, I apologise now. Thanks again :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is back! Finally! I am so, so, incredibly sorry for having kept you waiting this long and I do hope you will forgive me for it! Thanks for being so patient, and I hope you enjoy this chapter! :)

Douglas woke to the smell of cooking. He rolled over in bed, curious as to why he was smelling it and what exactly it was that was cooking. Glancing at the clock on the bedside he groaned, still a little tired and put out after the night before. Oh, what a fool he had made of himself, he thought, replaying the events of last night in his mind. Perhaps, though, Martin had forgotten. He could hope, he supposed.

                Sighing, he slid his dressing gown over himself and dragged himself out of his bedroom, following the now clear scent of bacon which had been wafting its way up the stairs. “Douglas?” he heard a voice – Martin’s – ask from the kitchen, and so he went there quickly. He smiled slightly at the sight, Martin a little ruffled, clearly having gotten little sleep, and now trying to figure Douglas’ kitchen out. “I, er, hope you don’t mind… I thought I’d say thanks for, you know, l-letting me stay here.” He sputtered bashfully, pink had already started rising from his neck when Douglas entered the room.

“Of course I don’t mind,” Douglas shrugged, moving over to the table and sitting himself down, just watching Martin. “Breakfast is always better when I don’t have to make it myself,” he smiled as some of the tension in Martin clearly left him.

“Good, good.” Martin nodded, going back to the cooking, looking a little confused. “It may not be the _best,_ I haven’t really had much practise recently, to be honest.” He confessed, attempting though to look like he knew what he was doing. Douglas only smirked, leaving the younger man to it, sometimes telling him where things were when he could see the puzzled look on Martin’s face.

                “Here we go,” Martin announced, bringing two plates of an almost full English breakfast to the table. He place one in front of the older man, and then sat opposite him. “I hope you like it,” he smiled awkwardly. “It, it is really just to say thanks for letting me stay here and for, for y’know, keeping me company,” he mumbled on, Douglas watching him with fondness in his eyes. “I really am grateful for it all, Douglas, and I hope to do as much as I can to thank you,” he paused, seeing the smile on Douglas’ face only grow wider. “W-what?”

“You don’t have to keep thanking me, Martin.” Douglas shook his head, grabbing his fork now to eat. “You keep me company as well, you are as much help to me as I am to you.” He reassured him, beginning to eat so Martin would not argue with him about it or continue to thank him for showing him basic human compassion. As soon as he ate the food though, he grimaced, regretting this decision. Martin looked at him worriedly, not having touched his own food.

“What is it?”

“If that is the thanks I get, Martin, for taking you in…” he chuckled, pushing the plate aside. Martin understood, he smiled sympathetically to the older man, but moved his own plate away.

“Sorry, I tried.” He shrugged. “I’ve not had one of these in _ages.”_

“Well, how about I make us a proper one?”

“Oh, Douglas, I couldn’t ask you to do that-”

“Nonsense, you’ve got me in the mood for one now anyway, so I will whether you ask me to or not.” Douglas announced, standing from his seat.

“Er, Douglas, actually…” Martin looked up guiltily. “I think I may have used most of the food, I don’t know how much is left.”

“Not much,” Douglas opened the fridge, glancing around at the bareness of it. He had been on flights frequently this past week, and so had had no real need to fill his cupboards or fridge up with food. He did have some items here and there, but nothing nice or particularly filling. “We could go shopping? There’s no flight today, so neither of us are busy. What do you think?” Martin moved awkwardly in his seat, clearly not won over by the idea.

“H-how would that work? I- I… nobody can _see me,_ Douglas.”

“They _can_ see me, however, and I will be the one to be doing the shopping.” Douglas reasoned, moving over to him. “You could still keep me company,” he smiled. “Perhaps, though, I will only be able to respond when the aisles are empty, I don’t fancy being escorted away by white men in coats any time soon.” This managed to get a laugh from Martin, who seemed to sort of warm to the idea.

“I _suppose_ that would be all right…” he considered, watching Douglas. “I haven’t been shopping in quite a while, it would be nice to… to do that sort of thing again. Especially not alone.” He smiled, perking up. “Yes, all right. I guess we can go shopping together.”

“Good,” Douglas patted him on the shoulder. “Do you want to wash up before we go?”

“Oh, if you wouldn’t mind? I have been _dying_ to get this sorted out,” he indicated to his bird’s nest hairstyle, groaning. “Invisibility really does have its drawbacks.”

* * *

 

Douglas couldn’t help but smile when they entered the supermarket, watching as Martin stared around the entire place. Anybody else would think he was a lunatic, but Douglas understood. Martin hadn’t been able to do anything normal ever since he had been made invisible, and so this was exciting for him, to go back to things like this and just be _himself_ again.

                As they wandered the stalls, Douglas wished he was able to reply to everything Martin was saying, simply to tell him to stop talking about _planes._ Martin had obviously planned this, knowing Douglas would not be able to stop his constant chatter about it, and so it was the perfect opportunity. The older man didn’t really hate it, though. It was a sort of comfort, he supposed. Hearing someone talk to him so much, because they wanted to. And he _liked_ listening to Martin, whatever he was saying. As much as he tried to stop himself having these thoughts – these _ridiculous_ thoughts – they were hard to quell when the man was right there beside him, being his adorable self. How had Douglas got himself in this far?

                When he got to the checkout, he paused for a moment, looking in the trolley at his items. Some of those items, he thought, he had not put in there. He turned, an accusing eyebrow twitched up, and Martin blushed. “I _did_ ask if you wanted them,” he assured Douglas, and he may have been telling the truth; Douglas had barely been paying much attention to what Martin had been saying when he realised he had quite deep feelings for the man. “You can put them back if-” Douglas shook his head discretely, scanning the items at the checkout, not wanting to disappoint his friend. “Thanks,” Martin smiled. Douglas nodded, smiling back, and then was followed by Martin to the car park.

“Right,” he sat behind the wheel, waiting for Martin to get comfortable before setting off. “Time for a _proper_ English breakfast,” he smirked.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five weeks later

Martin did not understand how this had all really happened, but now he and Douglas were both stood at Duxford Air Museum ready to go in. Well, he did understand how it had all happened really; Douglas had asked him if there was anything in particular he had wanted to do that day. Martin had replied “I really would like to go to Duxford,” he had replied as a joke, of course he could not go to Duxford! He was invisible.

“And?” Douglas had asked, not really seeing why that should be a problem. People could not see him, that did not mean he could not see other people or things. Martin pulled a face. He had just assumed really that since he was invisible he could not really do the things he used to, but now that he thought about it… It did seem like something he could pull off. “You would save money on tickets as well,” the older man had joked, standing from his seat at the dining table to go into the living room. Martin had followed.

“So… is that a, er, a yes? Could we go to Duxford, then?” he asked timidly, not sure why since he and Douglas had been so much more confident around each other nowadays.

“Why not? I have nothing else planned.” Douglas had replied cheerfully, causing Martin to smile. He did love it when Martin smiled that genuine, full smile.

                So now here they were, Duxford, and it was taking Martin a few minutes to take it all in. Not the planes, no, he was still amazed by them all obviously, but the fact that he was _there._ The fact that he was invisible but he was there, and he was _with_ somebody, somebody he had grown incredibly fond of. Somebody whose company he really did enjoy. He beamed as he showed Douglas everything, not having to read the information given but supplying it himself to the other man who was listening intently he could see and was even smiling as if Martin was not acting like a child, as everyone else had always said.

                Douglas did listen, taking in everything the younger man said. He had been finding it difficult _not_ to listen to him, but he did not mind. Everything was said with such happiness, and he had not seen Martin smile this much ever since he had known the man, and he was glad he was able to make him so joyful, really. These sorts of outings had become a thing they did now, he and Martin, since they went to the shops when Martin first began sharing his home. Only to small places which did not require much talking to as oppose to listening to, and where you were not being paid much attention. This was really the only big place they had been, and it was going quite well.

                They had been living together for about five weeks now, each becoming more confident with each other as the days went by. Martin was obviously quite shy around Douglas’ house at first, not really sure where he could go, what he could do, that sort of thing. Now Douglas was glad to see that he had become more certain around both Douglas and his home. They went to the airfield together, where they would leave each other so Martin could go take his seat on the plane if Nigel was flying and Douglas would go to the portacabin, unless Nigel was not in and Martin would sometimes even go into the portacabin with the other man, enjoying the sense of family he got from the other members of MJN, despite being a little terrified of Carolyn. Arthur was a laugh, though. He knew that from the flights whether he was flying as a passenger or in the flight deck, Arthur made him smile sometimes and he often wished he could say hello to him.

                Soon his wish nearly came true; he and Douglas were sitting in the flight deck playing another of those ridiculous word games which Martin could never win and was losing everything he still had to the First Officer, when Arthur had come in with coffee for Douglas, thankfully not spilling it on Martin this time. He exchanged a few words with Douglas, simply asking the silly questions he normally asked, Martin sat wondering how he even _thought_ of such questions. He sat smirking as they discussed, listening to Douglas’ stupid sarcastic answers to which he rolled his eyes at. Douglas quirked an eyebrow at him, and that is what made Arthur look over. Usually Douglas could get away with a quirk of the eyebrow to Martin or a glance over whilst Arthur was in the room, but this time something different happened. Something strange. Arthur _noticed._ Well, he _began_ to notice.

“Who’s that?” he had asked, looking over to the other empty chair. The question startled not only Martin but Douglas as well, causing him to turn around with a curious expression.

“Who’s who?” he replied, aiming for nonchalance.

“That in the other chair, that person. Don’t you see him?” for a moment, Martin felt panic; he might get kicked off of the plane. Then he realised that was a stupid emotion to feel right now because of two reasons: firstly, this was _Arthur,_ one of the nicest people Martin had come to know, and he definitely would not throw him off the plane if they explained the situation to him, rather he would pronounce it to be brilliant and continue to ask questions. Secondly, _another person could see him._ Why should he not be happy about that? That meant he was becoming visible! He could live his life again.

“Who and what are you talking about, Arthur?” Douglas asked once more. The steward looked to him confused, but then looked back to the empty chair. Now definitely empty in his eyes again.

“I thought… I thought I saw someone?” he scratched his head for a moment. “It’s like when you said you saw that person boarding the plane, Douglas, but then it turned out I couldn’t see him and nobody was there!” Arthur turned, ignoring the seat which he believed now to be empty.

“Yes,” Douglas nodded, noticing the smile which had appeared on Martin’s face drop a little. “Yes exactly, Arthur. Now, don’t you need to be serving the guests their food?”

“Oh yes!” Arthur remembered, hurrying away. “I’ll be back later!”

                Douglas turned to Martin who seemed to be thinking hard, incredibly so. “He saw me.” He spoke slowly. “He saw me.”

“Yes, Martin. He did.”

“Douglas, he saw me! He really saw me!” Martin beamed, watching Douglas smile to in happiness for the younger man.

“And I’m positive it’s not the last time he will either; soon everyone will know Martin Crieff!”

“Yes!” Martin could not help but smile so much, despite the pain growing in his cheeks from lack of practise.

* * *

 

Now they were returning from Duxford, both having had the most wonderful time. Martin just could not believe he was able to go and it all felt so _normal._ He has not done such things in _so long,_ it seemed such a relief when he finally did. And he was able to do so with Douglas, who he could hardly thank. All of the way home they chatted about it, luckily nobody was around to notice the crazy man talking to himself, seeming to laugh at nothing, but actually laughing at Martin’s giddiness and complete joy.

                Then suddenly, both came to a stop. Neither really knew why, but a silence had come over them, a comfortable one, and now they were just sort of standing there. They were close to the house, only a few more minutes’ walk would get them there, yet they just stood for a moment. Both knew something had changed recently, neither wanting to voice it though, each concerned what the other would think of them, but both desperate to make it clear that _yes, they could feel it too_ and they _wanted_ it.

                They stared at each other longingly, not knowing who would make the move. This could either end in disaster or a perfect end to a perfect day, and with Martin’s record he assumed it would be the former, because when wasn’t it? He was _invisible._ Douglas watched him too, feeling the same worry, fearing everything Martin feared. What if his feelings were not _really_ reciprocated? What if he had just read everything wrong? That look Martin had given him at Duxford, that may have not been what he interpreted it to be. When Martin had run his fingers across Douglas’ hand, that may have not been what he thought it was. They stood for a moment longer, each lingering, and then Martin leaned in.

                Martin grabbed Douglas by the collar, making the decision to just go for it, what had he to lose? Lips met lips, and both bodies moved in to each other desperately, Douglas thankful for Martin’s rare courage. Martin moved his other hand underneath Douglas’ jaw as the other man’s hand ran over his arm to pull him in. Martin moaned as Douglas kissed deeper, feeling the younger man’s warm breath on his skin. Then, after a moment or so, Douglas gently pulled back. Martin looked worried, had he done it all wrong? Or perhaps Douglas did not want this, and Martin had just done something completely _stupid._ Douglas immediately saw the look of worry cross Martin’s face and he shook his head quickly and spoke to him reassuringly. “That was _definitely_ good, Martin.” He smiled, a little taken aback by it all, which was quite an odd feeling for him. “I just think that, although empty now, these streets may fill up with people and I would rather not be seen kissing air, thank you very much.” Martin allowed himself to smirk at this, blushing quite a bit now already.

“Of- of course, yes.”

“Perhaps we could continue this back at home?” Martin nodded fervently, and Douglas simply grinned. He grabbed Douglas’ hand on impulse, still feeling a jab of courage in him. Douglas squeezed back, allowing it as nobody made their way on to the streets. Quickly, they made their way back to Douglas’ home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Martin and Douglas are now officially together! Woo! Thank you so much for reading, leaving comments and kudos as well, I hugely appreciate it. I would also like to thank you for sticking with this story, because I know I don't update a lot. Don't worry though, I will never forget about this story and I will finish it!


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